Protection
Oliver/Harry
NekoShininigami
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just stealing J.K.R.'s toys. Muahaha.
Dedication: To the giver of lovely feedback, Ruwen-chan. Sorry it's so late. u_u;;
It was all a matter of routine, Harry speculated as he kicked off from the ground. He filtered the fast-approaching dusk from his sight, searching for the familiar glint of gold. The Snitch was released, it was caught, the game was over. Not overly-complicated, hard or confusing. That's why he liked Quidditch: it wasn't complicated. Harry circled the pitch again. Ten minutes later, he grasped the tiny golden ball in one hand. He stared at it, watching the golden wings straining against his fingers. Slowly, he opened his hand, allowing the Snitch to fly from his palm into the darkening sky.
After an hour, Harry returned to the ground and placed the Snitch in its proper holder. He lowered the lid on the ball chest and picked it up. Tucking it under his arm, he headed to the locker room. He set it in the equipment locker, clicking the padlock back into place against the closed door. Then, he turned and headed into the showers.
~~~~
Harry stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry. He dressed, then turned around the corner, vigorously rubbing at his hair.
"Hullo, Harry." Harry jumped and spun towards the sound of the voice.
"Oliver! What're you doing here?" Oliver smiled slightly.
"I think the better question is: what are *you* doing here? Your friends are having kittens trying to find you without telling one of the professors." Harry sighed inwardly.
"I was just about to head back. I only wanted to practice for a bit..." Harry threw his used towel into one of the hampers that lined the wall. Oliver nodded.
"Yeah. Saw you practicing when I first walked out. Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance on Saturday." Harry blushed but allowed himself a small smile.
"Like they did anyway." Oliver chuckled. Sitting beside the Gryffindor captain, Harry leaned back against one of the lockers and closed his eyes.
"You know you shouldn't be out here by yourself, Harry," Oliver said quietly. Harry opened his eyes irritably.
"Why? Because Sirius Black might be lying in wait, ready to attack me the moment I'm alone?" Oliver raised an eyebrow at the third year's sarcasm.
"Well...yeah. And the dementors are supposed to investigate anybody who're by themselves." This was something new to Harry.
"How d'you know that?" he asked. Oliver smiled wryly.
"Percy." Harry nodded and closed his eyes again.
"I ought to walk you back now, before either of us get into anymore trouble." Harry grit his teeth in annoyance.
"What if I'm not ready to go back yet?" He knew he must sound like a spoiled child, but he didn't care. He heard Oliver sigh impatiently.
"Harry, we really ought to get back, before one of your friends *does* let it slip to a professor that you're missing."
"What difference would it make? I'd be confined to the common room instead of the entire castle?" Harry stood and began to pace in a small circle. Oliver watched him, unsure of what to say. Harry continued. "It's ridiculous, Oliver! All these precautions and protection... I'm sick of it!" Harry turned his gaze back to the older boy, green eyes flashing. "And you! Oliver "Get-the-Snitch-or-die-trying" Wood. You're the last person I'd expect-or need this from." Harry's tone was biting, and Oliver winced.
"Harry..." he began.
"No! I'm not finished yet." Harry turned away again and resumed his pacing. "It'd be such a bloody inconvenience if your Seeker was killed, wouldn't it, Oliver? Then you'd have to go through the trouble of finding someone to replace me, and George and Fred would tell the horror stories of how your *last* Seeker was killed by a psychotic escaped convict." The younger boy whirled around, still fuming. "That'd be a bloody thorn in your side, wouldn't it, Wood? Especially since this is your last chance at the cup and everything. That'd be a damn shame, wouldn't it-" Harry suddenly found himself forced up against the lockers, Oliver's rich brown eyes blazing into his.
"Shut. Up. Potter," Oliver growled, his face close-too close-to Harry's. "You prat. This isn't about your protection." Harry opened his mouth to say something, to protest, to tell Oliver to let him go. Before he could say a word, Oliver's lips were on his in a bruising, bittersweet kiss. Harry was confused. He was angry. Mostly, he was stunned. He struggled to pull away, and, mercifully, Oliver backed off.
"Despite what you may think, Potter," Oliver said bitingly, "I don't care about your value to the game. " With that, the older boy turned on his heel and breezed out of the locker room without a backwards glance.
Harry slumped to the ground against the locker, fingers to his lips, thoughts ricocheting through his mind. How could Oliver have done that? Why did he say what he did? Did he...did he truly care about Harry? Most importantly... How could Harry have enjoyed it the way he did? He looked to the door, unable to see Oliver's retreating form.
"Oliver..." he called out, voice breaking. "Oliver...wait..."
//End//
Author's Notes: Wow. ::looks over fic:: This is way more angsty than my norm. And yet...did anybody catch that little spark of potential...erm...*future* sap there at the end? Anyway. Ruwen-chan, this is your "thank-you!" fic. I really hope you liked it. Thanks goes to my Lady, Ann, for her beta-ing, suggestions, and general luuv when I got stuck. Please R+R, everyone!
Oliver/Harry
NekoShininigami
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I'm just stealing J.K.R.'s toys. Muahaha.
Dedication: To the giver of lovely feedback, Ruwen-chan. Sorry it's so late. u_u;;
It was all a matter of routine, Harry speculated as he kicked off from the ground. He filtered the fast-approaching dusk from his sight, searching for the familiar glint of gold. The Snitch was released, it was caught, the game was over. Not overly-complicated, hard or confusing. That's why he liked Quidditch: it wasn't complicated. Harry circled the pitch again. Ten minutes later, he grasped the tiny golden ball in one hand. He stared at it, watching the golden wings straining against his fingers. Slowly, he opened his hand, allowing the Snitch to fly from his palm into the darkening sky.
After an hour, Harry returned to the ground and placed the Snitch in its proper holder. He lowered the lid on the ball chest and picked it up. Tucking it under his arm, he headed to the locker room. He set it in the equipment locker, clicking the padlock back into place against the closed door. Then, he turned and headed into the showers.
~~~~
Harry stepped out of the shower and began to towel himself dry. He dressed, then turned around the corner, vigorously rubbing at his hair.
"Hullo, Harry." Harry jumped and spun towards the sound of the voice.
"Oliver! What're you doing here?" Oliver smiled slightly.
"I think the better question is: what are *you* doing here? Your friends are having kittens trying to find you without telling one of the professors." Harry sighed inwardly.
"I was just about to head back. I only wanted to practice for a bit..." Harry threw his used towel into one of the hampers that lined the wall. Oliver nodded.
"Yeah. Saw you practicing when I first walked out. Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance on Saturday." Harry blushed but allowed himself a small smile.
"Like they did anyway." Oliver chuckled. Sitting beside the Gryffindor captain, Harry leaned back against one of the lockers and closed his eyes.
"You know you shouldn't be out here by yourself, Harry," Oliver said quietly. Harry opened his eyes irritably.
"Why? Because Sirius Black might be lying in wait, ready to attack me the moment I'm alone?" Oliver raised an eyebrow at the third year's sarcasm.
"Well...yeah. And the dementors are supposed to investigate anybody who're by themselves." This was something new to Harry.
"How d'you know that?" he asked. Oliver smiled wryly.
"Percy." Harry nodded and closed his eyes again.
"I ought to walk you back now, before either of us get into anymore trouble." Harry grit his teeth in annoyance.
"What if I'm not ready to go back yet?" He knew he must sound like a spoiled child, but he didn't care. He heard Oliver sigh impatiently.
"Harry, we really ought to get back, before one of your friends *does* let it slip to a professor that you're missing."
"What difference would it make? I'd be confined to the common room instead of the entire castle?" Harry stood and began to pace in a small circle. Oliver watched him, unsure of what to say. Harry continued. "It's ridiculous, Oliver! All these precautions and protection... I'm sick of it!" Harry turned his gaze back to the older boy, green eyes flashing. "And you! Oliver "Get-the-Snitch-or-die-trying" Wood. You're the last person I'd expect-or need this from." Harry's tone was biting, and Oliver winced.
"Harry..." he began.
"No! I'm not finished yet." Harry turned away again and resumed his pacing. "It'd be such a bloody inconvenience if your Seeker was killed, wouldn't it, Oliver? Then you'd have to go through the trouble of finding someone to replace me, and George and Fred would tell the horror stories of how your *last* Seeker was killed by a psychotic escaped convict." The younger boy whirled around, still fuming. "That'd be a bloody thorn in your side, wouldn't it, Wood? Especially since this is your last chance at the cup and everything. That'd be a damn shame, wouldn't it-" Harry suddenly found himself forced up against the lockers, Oliver's rich brown eyes blazing into his.
"Shut. Up. Potter," Oliver growled, his face close-too close-to Harry's. "You prat. This isn't about your protection." Harry opened his mouth to say something, to protest, to tell Oliver to let him go. Before he could say a word, Oliver's lips were on his in a bruising, bittersweet kiss. Harry was confused. He was angry. Mostly, he was stunned. He struggled to pull away, and, mercifully, Oliver backed off.
"Despite what you may think, Potter," Oliver said bitingly, "I don't care about your value to the game. " With that, the older boy turned on his heel and breezed out of the locker room without a backwards glance.
Harry slumped to the ground against the locker, fingers to his lips, thoughts ricocheting through his mind. How could Oliver have done that? Why did he say what he did? Did he...did he truly care about Harry? Most importantly... How could Harry have enjoyed it the way he did? He looked to the door, unable to see Oliver's retreating form.
"Oliver..." he called out, voice breaking. "Oliver...wait..."
//End//
Author's Notes: Wow. ::looks over fic:: This is way more angsty than my norm. And yet...did anybody catch that little spark of potential...erm...*future* sap there at the end? Anyway. Ruwen-chan, this is your "thank-you!" fic. I really hope you liked it. Thanks goes to my Lady, Ann, for her beta-ing, suggestions, and general luuv when I got stuck. Please R+R, everyone!